CHAPTER 1
Blaire
“Is that a Cheeto in your hair?” Raelyn scoffs.
“How can you see—” Shit. My best friend called me on FaceTime, and this time, instead of answering with my camera off, I accidentally allowed my phone to broadcast the full extent of my misery. The last thing I want is to concern Raelyn after she was kind enough to book me a first class flight to Alaska so I could hide from the aftermath of calling off my wedding two weeks out.
Too late for that now.
“Blaire, please tell me you’ve showered?”
“Of course I’ve showered,” I retort, sitting up and combing a second Cheeto out of my tangled mop of greasy hair. It’s no surprise that my pillowcase is dusted in orange powder.
“Have you showered since you got to Caribou Creek?” she clarifies.
Dammit. I knew she’d see right through that. “I’m going to shower.” I wipe away the Cheeto dust from the corners of my mouth and my forehead. “This morning. I swear.”
“I know you’re hurting, sweetie. But you need to take care of yourself. If I could be there?—”
“No, you arenotthrowing away your big New York opportunity on my account. The plane ticket and an invitation to stay at your parents’ cabin are more than enough. Really, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s not what Thatcher seems to think.”
Dammit, Thatcher.
“In my defense, he wasn’t supposed to be here,” I say of her twin brother. I was promised a cabin all to myself for at least ten days where I could clear my head before I face the fallout back in Chicago. Raelyn’s parents are vacationing in Hawaii, and they were more than happy for a free house sitter.
But no one told me Thatcher Banks was already inhabiting said cabin.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there until March first,” Raelyn says, apology in her voice. “But he has nowhere else to go. He gave the buyers early occupancy. He can’t exactly stay with them. Besides, I feel better knowing you’re not all alone.”
I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid Thatcher since bumping into him that first day.
For one, the lanky, nerdy kid had to go and grow up into a muscled, tattooed, unfairly attractive man since those summers our families spent together. Considering my head isnoton straight since I called off my wedding, keeping my distance seems like the best course of action.
Not that he would exactly be all over the un-showered, grungy, hot mess express I’ve become.
“I’m worried about you, Blaire.”
“Don’t be. Really, I’m doing better.”
“You haven’t even left the cabin. You love Caribou Creek. I thought for sure you’d be out and about, getting some fresh air.”
“It’s negative ten outside,” I deadpan.
“So? The guest room closet is full of my old winter gear. You’re welcome to use any of it—aftera shower.”
“Okay, I get it.” I roll my eye dramatically, making sure she sees. “I need a shower.”
I also need a brand new life now that the one I thought I’d have has blown up. But I keep that comment to myself. It’s been hard enough convincing Raelyn to stay in New York this week. She’s the kind of soul who’d drop everything for those she loves. But this opportunity is too important for her to pass up on my account. I’d never forgive myself if she did.
“Has he called you?” Raelyn asks carefully.
“Only three times today. I think he’s getting tired.” My ex-fiancé has been blowing up my phone all week, leaving voicemails that range from pleading to downright insulting. I stopped reading the text messages on day two, after I replied to let him know that I was safe and would not be changing my mind. He ignored my request to be left alone.
So did his mother.
“You can block his number, you know,” Raelyn suggests for at least the fifth time since I boarded the plane at the beginning of the week. “Mommy Dearest’s number too.”
